


fire and flood

by serenlyall



Category: Stargate - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, So here we are, but it has a sam/jack slant to it, it's mostly genfic, quarantine fic exchange 2020, this thing turned into a beast to the surprise of literally no one, updates are planned for every 4 days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenlyall/pseuds/serenlyall
Summary: When Sam and Jack wake to find themselves in a strange village with strange people, they embark on a quest to save a new friend and to kill a god. You know: SG-1's average Tuesday afternoon.
Relationships: Daniel Jackson & Teal'c, Samantha "Sam" Carter & Daniel Jackson & Jack O'Neill & Teal'c, Samantha "Sam" Carter & Jack O'Neill, Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I joined a Stargate quarantine fic exchange about a month back, promptly forgot about it, was reminded of it a week ago, and scrambled to write a story for it in 3 days. Unfortunately for me (but (hopefully) fortunately for everyone else), the fic grew into a monster, and it just wouldn't let me write anything else. So, here we are, with yet another WIP that I'm actually dedicated to finishing because it's for someone else. Never fear! My other WIPs *are* going to get finished as well...it's just gonna be a little while. haha.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

Colonel Jack O’Neill of the United States Air Force was having an unpleasant morning.

“Shit,” he cursed, slamming the door to his truck. Hot coffee was soaking through his jeans and scalding the skin of his legs, the lid of the cup he’d just bought sitting askew on top of the Styrofoam lip. “Shit,” he said again, followed promptly by an irritated, “Ow.”

He dropped the now half-empty cup into the cupholder, then fumbled for the sweatshirt in his passenger’s seat. He shimmied out of his pants, draped them over the back of the seat beside him, then used the sweatshirt to mop up the quickly-cooling coffee still dripping down his legs, which were bright red and burned.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Jack grumbled, throwing the sweatshirt back onto the seat beside him, then turning on his truck. The engine turned over and rumbled to life, and the radio began blaring. Turning on his lights and windshield wipers—it had begun raining as soon as he stepped out of his door that morning—Jack pulled out of the gas station parking lot and onto the road toward Cheyenne Mountain.

His pants were only half dry by the time he reached the front gate to the base. The Airman on duty waved him through after he scanned his ID card at the reader, and he pulled past the barbed wire-topped fence and into the parking lot a moment later.

Carter’s car was already there, as was Daniel’s, Jack saw as he pulled into a parking spot. Vaguely, Jack wondered if the two of them had left the base since they had said goodnight the day before, or if they had simply slept in their bunks below. Jack frowned, and then wondered if they had slept at all; his scientists had a tendency to “forget” to sleep when in the middle of projects—though whether that forgetfulness was purposeful or not, Jack had yet to figure out for sure.

Buttoning his pants and grimacing at the feel of cold coffee-soaked jeans pressed against his burned legs, Jack climbed out of his truck. Locking the doors, he strode toward the access door linked to the SGC staff parking lot. He yanked the left-hand side of the double doors open and walked in, rifling his fingers through his close-cropped hair to shake the rain water from it, then sluiced his palm down his face to free it of the droplets coursing down his cheeks.

“Morning, sir,” said the Airman stationed at the metal detector. She saluted as Jack approached, then took his wallet and keys, which Jack produced from his pockets before walking through the detector. It buzzed as he passed under the arch, but no alarm sounded.

The Airman sitting at the verification point saluted as well, adding an overly cheerful, “Morning, Colonel O’Neill,” as Jack approached.

“Hmph,” Jack grunted, acutely aware of his damp jeans, his damp hair, and his damp shoulders. The only part of him not damp—from coffee or from rain—were his feet, and he intended to keep it that way for the rest of the day.

“Rough morning?” the Airman—Airman Jenkins, Jack saw at a glance—asked.

“You could say that,” said Jack, sliding his ID card through the reader, then pressing his palm against the scanner. Airman Jenkins glanced down at the screen on his side of the terminal, then nodded.

“You’re clear, sir,” he told Jack. “Have a good day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jack, passing through the last barrier.

Cheyenne Mountain was sectioned off into two halves: the upper half, which was where NORAD was stationed; and the lower half, which was the SGC. On a typical day, the SGC staff and the NORAD crew saw nothing of each other; they each had their own elevators, their own commissaries, their own gyms, as well as their own entrances to the mountain base. In fact, the only times the two staffs ever interacted was for the annual holiday party, where both tried to one-up the other. The last year, Carter and some of her friends in R&D had concocted a heatless firework from a miniscule amount of naquadah; the fireworks had gone off along the ceiling of NORAD’s main gymnasium for half an hour. Not that the NORAD crew had known just what fueled the fireworks, of course.

The first elevator down into the SGC was at the end of a long hallway. Doors into offices branched off to either side, and various generals and base commanders had their portraits hanging on the walls between each. So far as Jack knew, none of the officers who were stationed on this hallway had ever actually been down into the SGC proper, let alone off-world, yet were responsible for a good portion of the day-to-day paperwork necessary for keeping the lights on and his payroll funded.

A fourth Airman was stationed at the elevator. “Morning, sir,” he said, pressing the button to summon the elevator.

“Morning,” Jack replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was anxious to get down into the SGC so he could change out of his wet clothes and into his BDUs, and then go find his teammates.

The elevator door opened with a soft chime, and Jack walked in briskly, whipping around on a heel and pressing the button for the lowest level. The doors closed with a soft swish, and then he felt the lurch of gravity as the elevator began its long descent.

Yet another Airman was stationed outside of the door on the level the elevator opened onto, though he only saluted as Jack passed and said nothing. Jack walked down another short hallway, which branched off to either side before he reached the end, but he did not even turn his head to look down either of the two side halls. Instead, he came to a halt outside of the last and final waypoint on his descent down into the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain—and this time, he pressed the button himself.

The elevator came, and Jack rode down to the top floor of the SGC in companionable silence with himself, mentally going over what his agenda for the day looked like: changing his clothes came first, then breakfast with the rest of SG-1—after he managed to drag Carter and Daniel away from their projects, of course; briefing at 1000; equipment check at 1330; mission departure at 1430. Between those things, he had paperwork to finish, a mission report to write up, and Carter wanted him to look at a new piece of technology she was dissecting, with the hopes that he would be able to figure out the firing mechanism on what she suspected was a weapon.

“Oh!” Jack looked up, shaken from his thoughts on firing pins and triggers by Daniel Jackson’s surprised exclamation. His archaeologist and linguist was standing on the other side of the newly-opened elevator door, hair mussed and eyes bleary, the creases in his jacket and pants telling Jack that they had not been changed for at least a day.

“Danny boy,” Jack said with fake cheer, “just where do you think you’re going? It’s breakfast time.”

Daniel frowned. “Breakfast time?” He checked his watch. “God,” he said, scrunching his nose and wrinkling his brow. “I was on my way home for bed.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “But it’s 0600.”

“Yeah,” said Daniel. “I see that. Now.”

Jack snorted, slung an arm around Daniel’s shoulders, and guided him back down the hall, away from the elevator and into the depths of the SGC. It was just like his archaeologist to forget to even check the time after a long night of translation. “Let’s go get some coffee into you,” he said. He quirked an eyebrow at Daniel, then added, “And then a shower and a change of clothes, I think.”

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

They made their way through the SGC down to the level where most of the scientists had their labs—including Carter. The door was open, and when Jack came to a halt just inside, Daniel still trapped against his side, it was to find her sitting at the desk on a lab stool, her back to them and her gaze fastened on her laptop. She was typing what looked like code—the screen was just visible from where Jack was standing—though what that code was for, Jack could only guess.

“Gooood morning, Camper,” Jack drawled, releasing Daniel and taking a step further into Carter’s lab.

Carter started and nearly fell off her stool. She caught herself, then turned, a frown on her face. “What?” she asked. “What time is it?”

Jack checked his watch. “0639,” he informed her. “Time for breakfast.”

“Huh,” said Carter, glancing back at her laptop. “I thought it was only 0200. Oops.” Her words were chagrined, but her tone was not. Jack glanced at Daniel, then sighed at his two scientists; they really did need babysitting, sometimes.

“Breakfast,” said Jack firmly. “Then showers, and then bed—for both of you. I won’t have half my team exhausted on the field today.”

“Yes, sir,” said Carter automatically. Daniel, however, groused.

“But Jack,” he protested, “I still have more work I need to do before we leave.”

“You can do the work when we get back,” said Jack.

“But—”

“No but’s, Daniel,” Jack said firmly. “I’ll tuck you in myself, if you force me,” he threatened.

Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled—and the fact that he had not fought him any more told Jack that he was right to insist Daniel go to bed. That he insist that they both go to bed.

Jack knew why they didn’t sleep. They were particularly single-minded when they had their teeth set into a project, to the exclusion of all else—including eating and sleeping. More than that, though, Jack understood why they didn’t want to sleep. It was for the same reason that he left the light on in his attached bathroom at night, and for the same reason he slept with a hunting knife under his pillow.

It had not been easy, these last five years. Each of them—the entirety of SG-1—had had their fair share of trials and tribulations—had suffered more trauma than any one person should face in an entire lifetime. Yet Jack’s team had faced it all with ferocity and determination, with courage and strength of character. They had not wavered in their morals—with a few exceptions—or betrayed the fiber of their beings, and for that Jack was immeasurably proud of them.

They were the strongest, bravest, most loyal, and most trustworthy people Jack had ever known, and he loved them dearly, for all that he would never say that aloud. He could hardly fault them for their quirks and idiosyncrasies, especially those begat by the bloodshed and pain he had witnessed each of them bear.

No. He would only be there to make certain that they ate, slept, and showered between the nightmares and the missions, and would be there to make sure they—all of them—knew they were not alone.

Teal’c was waiting for them outside of his room. He bowed slightly at the waist as the three of them drew near, then softly grinned and said simply to Jack, “I see Major Carter and Daniel Jackson did not go to bed when I bade them to.”

Jack caught a flash of movement as Carter and Daniel glanced sheepishly at each other, and grinned. “Nope,” he said. “But I know you try, Teal’c, and that means the world to this mother hen.”

Daniel laughed, Carter snorted, and Teal’c’s grin grew into a smile. “I do indeed,” he said.

“Well,” said Jack, bringing his hands together in a quiet clap, “now that the intrepid explorers are together, I vote we go explore breakfast.”

Once again he caught Carter share a glance with Daniel, who once more rolled his eyes at Jack’s antics. He did not complain, or comment, however, as Jack took the lead on the way to the commissary.

~cCc~

Major Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force, second in command of SG-1, and foremost expert on the Stargate, stood under the shower’s spray of cool water, and closed her eyes against the mist. Her short, blonde hair dripped, and water sluiced down her shoulders and back, running down her calves and pooling beneath her feet before draining through the grate underfoot, carrying with it the long hours she had spent staring at code, the aftertaste of burned coffee, and the exhaustion of 26 hours awake.

She had pulled longer shifts before—and she was sure she would do so again—but she knew it was ill-advised for her to do so the day before she and the rest of SG-1 shipped out on a mission. Still, the device—many of which had been spotted throughout the sector of space they were currently exploring, in various states of destruction—that SG-7 had brought back from P3X-980 had taunted her with hints of firepower beyond even current Goa’uld technology, and she had been desperate to crack the code on it before they left for a week’s survey of an alien planet.

It had, however, thus far proved her match.

Sam sighed and scrubbed a hand through her short hair, before stepping out from under the cool spray and grabbing the shampoo. She squirted a palm-full into her left hand, then vigorously washed her hair, taking out all of her frustrations with the alien piece of technology on it.

It just didn’t make any sense, Sam thought, rinsing her hair. The artifact was clearly a weapon of some kind, but she had yet to find the trigger for it—or any firing mechanism whatsoever. Judging by the chips included in the wiring of the technology, and the code embedded into those chips, Sam thought it might be completely electrical in nature—though that should not preclude a firing mechanism. She had thought perhaps the answer lay in the code itself, but though the numerical strings made some semblance of sense to her, the alphabetical code was in a language she had never seen before—which was when she had gone to Daniel for help.

Not that Daniel had been able to give her any answers either, though. He had been able to translate the letters for her, and give her a key and a guide to deciphering what was being meant in future lines, but there had been no answer in the letters themselves.

That it was a completely alien form of coding did not help at all, of course—though there were some similarities between all forms of electrical and technological code. There were basic principles that nearly all technology Sam had come across were based upon, like the numbers 0 and 1, making it possible for her to usually decipher what was being meant with even her mediocre-at-best coding skills.

She was no software engineer, though, and as Sam scrubbed her skin, she thought maybe she should give it up and send it on to the IT research department to look at.

Sam climbed out of the shower, turning off the cool water and grabbing the towel from its rack beside the stall. After drying herself, she wrapped it around her chest, then padded through the locker room to her own private locker, the burnished name plate on it reading Mjr. Carter. She opened it, pulled out a brush, toothpaste, and toothbrush, and walked over to one of the sinks lining the far wall.

She brushed her hair, not bothering with gel for the moment, then brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth, drinking a handful of water at the end to wash away the taste of spearmint. Then she returned to her locker and dressed, pulling on green BDUs and boots, hiding her flesh behind a soldier’s second skin.

After leaving the locker room, Sam went and collected her reports, then turned her feet toward the briefing room and the meeting scheduled in 15 minutes.

“Hey.”

Sam looked up to see Daniel fall in step beside her a dozen paces away from the elevator.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at him.

He yawned, then asked, “You slept yet?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “I was going to after the briefing.”

“Me too,” Daniel said sheepishly. His hair was wet like hers, Sam saw, and she grinned. It looked as if the Colonel had followed through on his over-breakfast threat to send Teal’c to drag him into the showers if he had to. Daniel, who had been insistent that he didn’t smell, had claimed his work was more important than taking the time to shower.

“I disagree,” Colonel O’Neill had said, stabbing his scrambled eggs with his fork. “You need a clean, fresh, presentable front for whatever new trees, and wildlife, and trees, and natives, and trees, we meet today on our mission.”

“You think we’re going to see some trees?” Sam had asked.

“Just a wild guess,” Colonel O’Neill had said with a snort.

“You excited about this mission?” Daniel asked, glancing down at his stack of folders and then looking back up at Sam.

Sam shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “This one is more your purview than mine.”

“True,” Daniel said. “Still, you’re supposed to take mineral samplings, aren’t you?”

Sam laughed low in her throat. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Mineral samplings. So much fun.”

Daniel laughed as well, then added, “Hey, at least you have something to do besides endless patrols.”

They stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the main level of the SGC.

“True,” Sam acquiesced. “Poor Teal’c.”

“What about Jack?”

Sam shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “He’s a big boy,” she said. “He can deal with some boredom.”

“And Teal’c isn’t a big boy?” Daniel asked dryly.

Sam laughed, then said, “You know what I mean.”

They rode the rest of the way down in silence, and walked to the briefing room while chatting amiably about hopes and expectations for the mission.

“What are your odds for us running into wildlife that wants to eat us?” Daniel asked as they climbed the stairs into the briefing room.

“Not as good as natives who want to eat us,” Sam said, and Daniel snorted.

“Okay,” he said, “you know what? Fair.”

They were the first ones there, and they took their seats beside one another at the large, oak table. They exchanged file folders, and Sam opened Daniel’s to glance through his reports about the UAV’s findings.

The Stargate was in the midst of a dense forest at the heart of a deep, mountain valley. Twin, half-fallen towers stood at the peaks of mountains to the southwest and southeast of the Stargate, made of a glittering substance that resembled no building material used on Earth. The closest approximation in appearance was diamond—though if it was diamond, that posed a whole new set of questions and theories regarding cutting and shaping tools.

Burned and shattered buildings sat at the feet of both towers: remnants of once-fine towns that had long since been deserted.

_Buildings seem to have been built in a Renaissance-era style,_ Sam read in Daniel’s report, _though out of what material, I cannot say._

_I cannot confirm what material was used in the building of the towers or the village beneath,_ Sam had written in her own report. _Visual inspection and samples must be procured in order for an assertion to be made._

Teal’c came up the stairs then, silent and stalwart as ever. He greeted his teammates, then took his place across the table from Daniel.

Sam and Daniel exchanged files once more, reclaiming their own, and then they both settled back into their chairs to wait for Colonel O’Neill and General Hammond.

O’Neill arrived less than a minute later, clanging up the metal stairs and into the briefing room with a saunter in his stride. He eyed both Sam and Daniel critically, then nodded to himself as if in satisfaction. Whatever it was he was satisfied about, though, he kept to himself.

General Hammond appeared through the door into his office a few minutes later, right as the clock’s hand struck 1000 hours.

“Good morning,” he said, as Sam and O’Neill got to their feet. He nodded, sat, and Sam and O’Neill sat as well. “I have an unexpected phone call with the President in half an hour,” he informed SG-1, “so let’s try to make this briefing quick.”

“Yes, sir,” said O’Neill. He glanced at Daniel and Sam, and said, “Ya hear that? Quick.”

“Yes, Jack,” Daniel replied. Then he looked at General Hammond and said, “Quick it is, General.”

The briefing slid by quickly, as General Hammond had requested. Daniel gave his report about the cave drawings, Sam gave her report about the gold-like veins of ore, and O’Neill and Teal’c gave their threat assessments.

At five minutes to the half hour, General Hammond nodded, and said, “Your primary mission is to take samples of the gold-like ore, as well as to seek out any traces of sentient civilization outside of the cave network. If contact is made, you are to assess the technological level of their progress, and to determine whether or not they are a viable candidate for entering into negotiations with.”

It was something the General had said a hundred times to them before, and Sam could have repeated it in her sleep. She nodded, though, as did the rest of her team, and then she and the Colonel stood once more as the General rose and departed for his office.

“Well, Campers,” said O’Neill, still standing and turning to the rest of his team, “you heard the General. Let’s get ready for another fun-filled mission to P3X-299.” He looked at Daniel and Sam, eyes sharp and dark, and said, “For you two, that means sleep.”

“I wanted you to take a look at that piece of tech SG-7 found first,” Sam said, looking at the Colonel, and then at Teal’c. “Both of you. I’m about to send it down to IT, because I can’t make heads or tails of the code, but I’d like both of you to take a crack at it first.”

“You got it,” said O’Neill, and Teal’c canted his head in agreement.

“See you later, Daniel,” Sam said, bidding Daniel farewell. The others did the same, then they departed through the side door and out into the corridor beyond, heading for the nearest elevator.

The piece of alien tech was sitting just where Sam had left it that morning: hooked up to her laptop on her workbench. She disconnected it now, after saving her work on her computer, and shifted it so that O’Neill and Teal’c could take it.

It was odd in shape, with two distinct segments that were joined together with a series of gears and bolts enabling the two pieces to move independently of one another. The first segment was long and rectangular, with a small divot concaved into the metal at the far end. The second segment was also rectangular, but set at an angle to the first, and was narrower and thinner than the first, with ribs of metal encasing it as if to form a grip of some sort.

“There are wires running through the whole thing,” Sam told the other two, “I think giving commands to the entire device.”

“Is it hollow?” O’Neill asked, hefting the device.

Sam shook her head. “It’s solid all the way through,” she said, “though X-rays have shown different components throughout the interior making up the solidity.”

“Huh,” said O’Neill handing the device to Teal’c to take a look at.

Teal’c turned it over in his hands. It was large enough that he had to cradle it in an elbow as he inspected it, running the fingers of one hand along the surface of the concaved end, then turning it over so he could do the same to the other section.

“What are these?” he asked, pointing to fragments of glittering crystal embedded around the mouth of the concave.

“I honestly don’t know,” said Sam. “Focusing crystals maybe? Or communication crystals? Or part of the wiring?” She sighed. “I really just don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Huh,” said O’Neill again, taking the artifact back from Teal’c. “You think it’s a weapon, though?”

“From what I’ve been able to read of the code, yes,” said Sam. “There’s code in there for focusing power—but what the power source is, I’m just not sure. I also don’t know how it dispels or discharges said power.” She shook her head. “I was hoping you two might be able to make some semblance of understanding out of it…”

But O’Neill shook his head. “It’s all Greek to me,” he said, handing the device back to Sam. “T?”

“I am afraid I have never seen anything like it,” Teal’c said. “I am at as much of a loss as you are, I fear.”

“Great,” said Sam. “Guess it’s going to IT, then.”

“Guess so,” said O’Neill, opening his arms up. “Want me and T to take it down for you?”

Stifling a yawn, Sam said, “Sure. Thanks, sir.”

“No problemo,” said O’Neill, relieving her of the device. “Now go get some sleep,” he said with mock severity.

Sam chuckled, then good-naturedly said, “Yes, sir.”

She watched O’Neill and Teal’c leave her lab, taking the device with them, then turned and shut down her laptop. Turning off the lights in her lab, she left the room and headed toward her bunk on an upper level of the base.

~cCc~

Daniel climbed into bed, his thoughts whirling with pre-mission questions. Just what would they find on the planet they were gating to? What new adventures would they have? What new horrors would they face?

He was under no misconceptions; most of their missions, while many of them boring, usually had at least one exciting moment—and as often as not, had more exciting moments than boring ones. Many of those exciting moments involved things that he would wish, later, he had never been forced to see—things he would see again, and again, and again when he closed his eyes at night.

Daniel sighed and turned over onto his side, shutting his eyes tight and trying to calm his mind.

It was not that he could not handle what he saw and experienced in the field—quite the opposite. So far as he was aware, he was just as well-adjusted as the rest of his team, for all that he had not had the same kinds of training they’d had, teaching them how to deal with intense and often fatal situations.

Even so, though, no one could just shrug off the sight of someone’s head being blown apart, or their throat being cut, or blood coursing down their skin from a ruptured artery. Nothing could prepare someone for finding an entire civilization murdered for the sake and whim of a cruel overlord. No one could be ready to face the kinds of world-shattering and earth-defying choices SG-1 was forced to make on a monthly basis.

Rolling back onto his other side, Daniel pulled the sheets closer to his chest and once more tried to quiet his mind. It would do him no good to mull over the horrors he’d seen, and the choices he’d been forced to make that had either saved or damned countless people. Doing that would only work him into an anxious state, making it impossible for him to get any good rest before the mission.

Sighing again, Daniel opened his eyes to the inky shadows strewn across roof over his lower bunk. Jack, when he slept on-base, slept on the top bunk, leaving Daniel to claim the bottom one. Teal’c, of course, had his own room, since he lived on-base, while Sam bunked with one of the female Airmen.

In that moment, though, Daniel wished he could go curl up next to Sam and fall asleep with the warmth of her back pressed against his; or sit beside Teal’c at a fireside, eyes drifting closed to the sounds of alien nightlife, knowing and trusting that Teal’c would have his back no matter what; or drift off to the cadence of Jack’s soft breathing as sleep claimed him as well, the gentle sounds of his almost-snores a lullaby to Daniel’s ears.

Instead, though, he was stuck deep underground, alone in a dark bunk, with only his own black thoughts to keep him company.

Eventually, though, in spite of it all, he did drift off to sleep, exhaustion claiming him for slumber.

~cCc~

Teal’c was the first one in the Gateroom, ready to depart for P3X-299. He stood at the end of the empty ramp, waiting patiently for the rest of his team to arrive, staff weapon in one hand and the other hand resting comfortably on the butt of his zat’nik’tel.

The equipment check had gone smoothly and swiftly, for him and for the rest of his team, with all of his own equipment functioning properly and in good condition. Daniel Jackson had needed a new tactical vest, as his had become damaged during their last mission, while Colonel O’Neill had wanted a new handgun, as his had developed a tendency to jam.

The days of Teal’c’s confusion as to how Tau’ri weapons were put together and maintained were long gone, replaced instead with hours of oiling and cleaning, with detailed brushes and rags stained with grease. Long gone were the hours he had spent taking apart radios and TVs, figuring out just what made them work, replaced instead with a deep understanding of Earth electronics and wiring, to the point where he was able to keep his and his teammates’ own communications devices operating in peak condition for long after most teams needed replacements.

Major Carter had arrived at the equipment check last, looking bleary-eyed and with her hair tangled. “Sorry I’m late,” she had mumbled. “I overslept.”

Colonel O’Neill had shared a glance with Teal’c, and Teal’c had inclined his head in agreement with Colonel O’Neill’s silent statement about Major Carter’s—and Daniel Jackson’s—tendencies to miss sleep. Neither of them commented, though; both Daniel Jackson and Major Carter were adults, and were at the tops of their fields, in both academics and battle prowess. For all that Colonel O’Neill teased them about needing a “babysitter”, both he and Teal’c knew acutely well that they hadn’t needed one since they were old enough to feed themselves.

Now, Teal’c waited for his team to finish gearing up in their shared locker room and join him in the Gateroom.

They did so together, traipsing in as a group with Colonel O’Neill at the head and Major Carter following up at the back. Daniel Jackson was at the center of the small group, still fiddling with one of the straps of his tactical new tactical vest, an unhappy expression stamped across his face.

“It just feels different,” he complained as the three of them came to a halt beside Teal’c.

“Yes, Danny,” said Colonel O’Neill. “That’s because you don’t have a piece of Kevlar stabbing you in the side anymore.”

“That’s not what I mean, Jack,” snapped Daniel Jackson, “and you know it. I mean it, there’s something about this vest that feels wrong.”

“Like what?” Major Carter asked.

“It just sits differently on my shoulders,” Daniel Jackson explained.

“Every tac vest feels a little different,” said Colonel O’Neill. “They’re not supposed to, but they do. You’ve had your last one for what, a year?”

“Yeah,” said Daniel Jackson grudgingly. “A little more.”

“Well there you go then,” said Colonel O’Neill. “You’ve simply gotten used to how that one felt, and now that you have a different one, it feels weird.”

“I guess,” said Daniel Jackson. He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I think I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well.”

“Hm,” said Colonel O’Neill.

Daniel Jackson huffed and said, “Not this again.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Colonel O’Neill protested.

“Yes, you did,” Daniel Jackson said. “It was implied,” he added.

“Only in your own mind,” said Colonel O’Neill primly.

“Boys,” Major Carter said, butting in. “Enough.”

“Yes, Mother,” Colonel O’Neill said mockingly, but he subsided all the same after Major Carter shot him a glare.

“SG-1?”

Teal’c looked up at the observation window sitting in the wall above the Gate. General Hammond stood beside Walter, who was manning the Gate controls. The Gate began to spin, the metal clunk of the chevrons locking echoing through the high-ceilinged, concrete room.

“Chevron 7, locked,” Walter said through the microphone, and the Gate splashed into life.

“SG-1,” General Hammond said again, “you have a go.”

Colonel O’Neill saluted, then turned to his teammates. “Alright, Campers,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The four of them traipsed up the ramp towards the event horizon, Teal’c at the back, Major Carter right in front of him. He did not hesitate as he stepped through the Gate, the event horizon glooping around him—and then the stars streamed out to either side, the bite of the cold of folding space sank into his bones, and the air froze in his lungs.

They were on their way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is already late. I've been terribly sick (though not with The Plague) since Tuesday, and didn't have the energy to finish getting the chapter ready. Again, sorry! I'll try to do better going forward - and hopefully I won't get super sick again!

CHAPTER 2

It was raining.

That was the first thing Jack noticed upon appearing on the other side of the Gate. The raindrops were fat and cold, driving into his face with an alacrity he usually associated with sleet. He was soaked through within seconds, his hair dripping beneath his hat and his shirt and jacket sticking to his skin beneath his tactical vest. Just as they had that morning, only his socks and feet remained dry, the water running down the stone steps leading up to the Gate not quite high enough to seep into his boots.

“Welcome to paradise,” Jack called to his teammates as he turned to face them, coming to a halt at the foot of the steps. He pulled off his hat, slapped it against his leg, then put it back on, grimacing at the few seconds of cold rainwater that splashed onto his hair.

“Lovely,” said Daniel dryly. “Just the paradise I always dreamed about.”

Carter and Teal’c remained silent, forming up on Jack’s six without comment—just as he would have expected of them—Carter pulling out a compass as she did so. Her blonde hair was already plastered to her head, and she shook rainwater out of her eyes and bangs as she peered down at the compass’s twisting face.

“According to the UAV’s directions,” she said, pointing forward and to the right, “the nearer of the two towers is this way.”

“Understood,” said Jack. “Carter, you take point. Teal’c, you watch our sixes.”

They set out, making their way across the paved-stone courtyard that surrounded the Gate and into the trees. The boughs were lined with pine needles and dripped in the rain, lending the grim and dismal atmosphere an eerie feel. The air was wet and cold, and before long Jack was shivering.

“Damn rain,” he muttered.

“Agreed, sir,” said Carter from up ahead.

“It was nice and sunny the other day when we sent the UAV through,” Jack complained. “Why couldn’t it have been like that today?”

“Because the weather hates you specifically,” said Daniel from behind Jack.

“It does,” agreed Jack.

Jack could all but feel the eye roll that came from Daniel at that, and he huffed with annoyance. “What, Daniel?” he asked. “Do you have something to say to me?”

“Nope,” said Daniel lightly. “Nothing at all.”

“I recommend we cease this pointless bickering,” said Teal’c from behind. “We do not know what lives in these woods.”

They moved on in silence, wending their way through the trees toward the southwest. After half an hour of walking, the ground began to climb underfoot, and the going became more difficult. Rocks began to appear between the fallen pine needles and the loam, craggy tongues of stone piercing through the soil to sit and watch the travelers pass balefully.

“Anyone else feel like we’re being watched?” Jack asked after another half hour.

“Yes, sir,” said Carter.

“Yeah,” agreed Daniel.

“Indeed,” said Teal’c.

“Whoever’s doing the watching isn’t doing a very good job at hiding themselves then,” said Jack. Daniel was the least observant of his team, so if even his archaeologist was sensing it, whoever—or whatever—was watching them either was very bad at stealth…or was not trying to be stealthy at all.

“Carter,” Jack snapped—but he was too late.

Something huge and tawny erupted from the trees to their left, bowling Carter over. It landed on top of her, ripping and tearing at her back with fangs and claws. She yelled, thrashing beneath the creature—but she had landed on her stomach and couldn’t get herself twisted around to use a weapon.

Jack snatched up his P90 and aimed at the thing trying to maul his major. It seemed to sense the danger, though, for it looked up at him with amber eyes and a red, red mouth, snarled—and darted away into the underbrush.

Daniel hurried forward and helped Carter to her feet. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead.

“You okay, Carter?” Jack asked.

“Fine,” said Carter, though her tone was thick with pain.

“No, you’re not,” said Jack. “Where did it get you?”

“Mostly just my vest,” she said, turning to show them her back.

Her tactical vest was shredded, and long gouges had been dug through the Kevlar. “Jesus,” whispered Jack, walking forward and reaching out to feel the cuts made into the strong material. “These go almost all the way through.

“Where else?” Jack asked, taking a step back.

“Nowhere,” said Carter. “I think it was trying to sever my spine, but the vest protected me from that.”

“You were bleeding.”

“Oh,” said Carter, turning to face the rest of her team once more and lifting a hand to her face. “That. I hit my head on a rock when I fell.”

“It looks pretty nasty, Sam,” said Daniel, coming forward to take a look.

“I’ll be fine,” Carter said. “It’s just a nasty scratch.”

“Even so,” said Jack, “we should tape it up.”

“Fine,” agreed Carter

She sat, and let Teal’c—the unofficial medic between the four of them—put pressure on the wound, then lay strips of plaster across the cut above her eyebrow. Jack and Daniel kept watch for the thing’s return—but whether it had learned its lesson or was merely biding its time, it did not appear.

They set off again a quarter of an hour later, with Jack taking point and Teal’c once more bringing up the rear. Carter still had the compass, but with the potential of a concussion—which she insisted again that she was fine, but Jack was taking no chances—Jack didn’t want her taking the brunt of a second assault.

The feeling of being watched did not leave entirely, but it did come and go. Sometimes, it felt as if whatever was watching them was right on top of them, staring down at them from right above; when that happened, Jack always unbuckled his P90 and carried it in the crook of an arm, keeping a weather eye toward the trees above them. At other times, though, it nearly vanished entirely, leaving him feeling cross and irritable, as though he was missing the opportunity for excitement—though he knew it was just that, with the abating of the eyes, came the irritation at the rain.

A tense hour passed, then a second. They came to the foot of a cliff, and made their way along its base for a kilometer before the cliff face slid away into a deep gorge. The walls of the gorge were a solid twenty feet high, while the gorge itself cut deep into the side of the mountain, before gradually climbing toward the peak.

Jack hesitated. They could try the gorge, and risk being boxed in by the creature; or they could keep going, and look for another way to ascend the mountain without needing to break out the climbing gear. Normally, with the wildlife attacking them, he would go for the climb, if only to get them out of the way of any slashing claws or teeth—but climbing a rockface in heavy rain was dangerous at best, and fatal at worst.

They also didn’t have the time to look for another way up the mountain. Night was beginning to fall, and Jack wanted to find a good, defensible location for a campsite before darkness took the land entirely. Though the cliff would provide a line of defense at their back, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to risk staying out in the open in the middle of the weather; the trees didn’t grow for a good dozen paces from the edge of the cliff’s edge, and so they would be unable to get a fire going, let alone keep it alive, in rain like this. And he had a feeling that, in order to survive the night’s wildlife, they were going to need fire.

His mind made up, Jack signaled for his team to enter the gorge.

Shadows swallowed them. The towering walls of the gorge ate most of what little light there was in the day, leaving them in a state of near-twilight. The rain lessened too, however, the trees that grew at the top of the gorge, and the walls themselves, keeping most of the sheets of rain out.

“Well this is…dismal,” commented Daniel from behind Jack.

“Indeed it is,” said Teal’c from the back.

The low growl was the only warning they had. Jack whirled, bringing his P90 up, just in time to watch as Teal’c was knocked to the ground. He yelled as tawny fur flew and claws flashed in the dim light, and reached for his knife. He twisted, drawing the blade, and stabbed up and up and up, again and again, into the beast’s belly.

The creature howled in pain and surprise and leapt away. Jack took aim and opened fire, sending a spray of bullets zipping into the thing’s face. It shrieked—and then fell, blood oozing from half a dozen bullet wounds in its face, its mouth still open in a silent, eternal snarl.

“You okay, Teal’c?” Jack asked, moving toward the Jaffa while keeping his weapon trained on the creature.

“I am fine,” said Teal’c, though he sounded far from it.

He picked himself up gingerly, holding his left arm close to his side. Jack finally took his eyes off of the dead beast and looked at his teammate—and cursed. Teal’c’s left arm was badly scratched and bloody, with five long, deep gouges torn through flesh and cloth alike.

“Ouch,” Jack said, and behind him, he heard Daniel suck in a sympathetic breath. “Daniel?”

“Yeah,” said the archaeologist. “I’m on it.”

Though Teal’c was their unofficial medic, if he was unable to treat someone, it fell to Daniel to tend to the wounded. Most people they had met assumed it was Carter who was the one to care for the injured—but Carter, as each of her teammates knew, could treat injuries, but at a cost.

“I swear, she has the hardest hands of anyone I’ve ever met,” Jack had grumbled once to Daniel and Teal’c, after she had finished wrapping his sprained wrist. “She knows her shit, but it always hurts when she does it.”

Daniel and Teal’c had nodded sagely in agreement—and that was that. From then on, if someone was hurt, the others did everything in their power to keep from needing to be tended to by Carter.

While Daniel patched up Teal’c, Carter and Jack went to inspect the dead creature.

It looked like the cougars that roamed the Rockies, Jack thought—except bigger. Its fur was tawny gold, its dead, unseeing eyes amber, and it had a long, feline tail. Its claws were long and sharp and curved, and its mouth was an oddly bright shade of red.

That was where the similarities ended, however.

The creature lying on the ground in front of them had two sets of teeth. The first was a normal set of feline incisors and fangs that filled the gums with ivory and pale porcelain. The second row was made of thin, finely pointed teeth that resembled needles more than anything else, and were slanted inward—the better to keep a hold of anything the creature bit down on, Jack supposed.

“Careful, Carter,” Jack warned as his major made to open the creature’s mouth, the better to look at its second row of teeth.

“It’s dead, sir,” Carter pointed out.

“You ever heard of a rattlesnake biting after its head has been cut off?” Jack asked.

“Point taken,” Carter said, and instead of her hand used the muzzle of her P90 to force the creature’s jaw open. “Damn,” she said a few seconds later—and before he could stop her, Carter had reached in and yanked out one of the inner teeth.

“Carter,” Jack groaned.

“What?” Carter asked innocently. She grinned, and Jack knew she knew exactly why he had said her name. Before Jack could say anything in response, though, the smile vanished from her face and she stood, stepping closer to Jack with the tooth held out between them. “Seriously, though,” she said, offering the tooth to Jack. “Look at this.”

Jack took the tooth from her and inspected it. It was surprisingly light—and he realized why a second later as he turned the tooth over in his hands. It was hollow. A thin, milky substance leaked out of the bloody roots—and Jack’s stomach clenched.

“You’re telling me this thing is venomous?” he asked Carter.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “Looks like it.”

“Shit,” said Jack. “Well then I guess it’s a good thing none of us were bitten by one. I don’t like to think about what its venom might have done to us.”

“Yes, sir,” said Carter. “Agreed.”

Jack flicked the tooth onto the creature’s corpse and turned back to Teal’c and Daniel. “You ready to go yet?” he asked. “We’re still at least ten klicks away from that tower—maybe more—and I’d like to find a good place to camp before the light fails us completely.”

“Yeah,” said Daniel, packing the rest of the medical supplies back into Teal’c’s pack. He stood, hoisting his own pack onto his back, and said, “I think we’re ready.”

“Teal’c?” Jack asked. “You good?”

“I am ready, O’Neill,” he said, standing and easily lifting his own pack. He did not so much as wince, even when he threaded his arm through the pack’s strap, pulling on the fresh stitches Daniel had just sewn into his flesh.

“Alright,” said Jack. “Then let’s head out.”

~cCc~

They walked for another hour before stopping.

“O’Neill,” Teal’c called from the back of the group.

They stopped and Sam turned, looking to see where Teal’c was pointing. There, mostly hidden behind a tumble of rocks at the gorge’s wall, was a dark opening. O’Neill approached cautiously, eyeing the opening warily.

It was barely waist-height and narrow. Teal’c would have to squeeze to get through—though Sam judged he would be able to make it through without too much difficulty, assuming the cave entrance did not narrow any more.

“Hm,” said O’Neill. “The question is, does it open up any more later on?”

“Only one way to find out,” Daniel pointed out.

O’Neill fished a glowstick out of his pack, cracked it, and tossed it into the opening. The plastic tube rattled as it clattered down the stone passage, illuminating a three-foot tunnel that then abruptly opened into a much larger cave.

“Nice,” O’Neill said, kneeling down again to peer into the cave. It was small enough that the glowstick illuminated most of it; only the very far-distant wall was still shrouded in shadow, and the edge of the cave closest to the tunnel, where the tunnel blocked sight, was invisible. “Hey!” O’Neill called into the cave. “Hey, is anything in there?”

He listened intently for a minute, then shrugged. “Guess not,” he said, and crawled in, taking his pack off and shoving it in front of him.

Sam followed, with Daniel behind her and Teal’c bringing up the rear.

The cave was surprisingly roomy, with enough space for all of them to stretch out beside their packs. The ceiling was high, the back wall gently sloped, and best of all: it was dry.

“Perfect,” said O’Neill, spreading his arms in the near-darkness left by the glowstick. He brought his hands together and said, “Now, let’s get a fire going.”

They used tinder from their packs, but Sam and Daniel collected downed branches and twigs stripped green from the trees that lined the gorge for the actual firewood. They smoked a lot at first and refused to catch fire—until O’Neill dashed a spray of kerosene on them. They grudgingly burned after that, though they filled the cave with smoke as well as ruddy gold light.

“This is nice,” quipped O’Neill, settling down beside the smoking fire.

“It could be worse, sir,” said Sam.

“Damn right it could be,” said O’Neill. “I could have wet feet.”

Sam shook her head, but settled down beside her CO at the fire’s edge, Daniel and Teal’c joining her a minute later.

They ate MREs for dinner—Sam traded with Daniel, who traded again with O’Neill, while Sam swapped desserts with Teal’c—then settled down for bed. They drew watches—Sam got third watch—and then turned in early, crawling into sleeping bags with their packs for pillows.

Sam was asleep in minutes.

She felt as though she’d only just closed her eyes when Teal’c shook her awake for her shift on watch. Yawning, she sat up in her bedroll and rubbed her face, then nodded at the large Jaffa. Teal’c inclined his head in return, then moved to lay down in his own sleeping bag.

Sam rose and moved to the fire’s side, bringing a notebook with her. She settled down, fed another branch to the flickering flames, then flipped open the notebook to a series of equations she’d been working on for the last two weeks. Theoretically they were for a propulsion engine, though it was a long way off from even testing, let alone field implementation.

An hour, and half of Sam’s watch, passed quietly. It was not until the last half hour of her shift that she heard the movement outside.

It was faint and barely there, a mere scratching of claws against rock. Sam looked up and closed the notebook, sticking the pen in the spiral binding before setting it down on the ground beside her. She stared out, past the fire, into the night beyond—and for a second, thought she saw movement. It was a flash, there and then gone, of shadow against night.

Frowning, Sam pulled her pen from the spiral and flicked it at O’Neill. O’Neill startled awake as the pen smacked him in the face, and he bolted upright, hands already searching for his weapon.

“Carter?” he asked quietly, as reason caught up to his senses.

“We have company,” Sam murmured softly.

“What?” O’Neill asked, scrambling to his feet and moving to waken Daniel and Teal’c. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “It didn’t look human, whatever it was, but with the firelight I couldn’t see much beyond movement.”

“Wha—” Daniel mumbled, coming awake at O’Neill’s shake. “What’s going on?”

“Company,” hissed O’Neill. Daniel was instantly wide awake and wary, hands fumbling for the gun propped up against his pack.

The rest of SG-1 joined Sam at the fireside, crouching and sitting down beside her to peer out into the darkness.

The movement came again, flashing against the darkness of the night, there and then gone, accompanied by the sound of claws against stone. Then, very suddenly, an undulating howl rose from the air outside of their cave. It soared high, then pitched low, falling away in decrescendos of wavering, wolfish notes.

“Well,” said O’Neill, not bothering to keep quiet as he sat back on his heels, “that would have certainly woken us up if Carter hadn’t. And they certainly know we’re here.”

“What do we do, sir?” Sam asked O’Neill.

“We wait safely and comfortably behind this fire until one of them does something stupid, and when morning comes, we see about leaving this God-forsaken cavern.”

They settled down to wait for dawn, Sam and Teal’c on watch by the fire for the first couple hours, O’Neill and Daniel settling down to work and read in Daniel’s case, and to clean his weapons in O’Neill’s. They changed places the last two hours before dawn, and Sam sat by her packs to work on her equations with her P90 close at hand, while Teal’c meditated silently beside her.

The beasts outside did not attack until the first, pearly rays of grim, watery sunlight prickled through the clouds outside.

There was a rush of sound, a baying of barking and the scuffle of claws on stone—and then Sam heard O’Neill shout, and the sudden explosion of gunfire in the confined space of the cavern. She snatched up her P90 and stood, shifting to the left to get clear of O’Neill, and sighted down its length.

A surging mass of fur and teeth and eyes, lit by the fire they flew toward, raced through the tunnel. Closer now, and lit by the firelight, Sam could see that they were wolves—or almost wolves. They were bigger than their Earth cousins, with more prominent jaws and fangs, and with eyeshine that gleamed red in the dim light. Their fur was dark and shaggy, hanging in clumps from their boxy frame—but they moved with agility that belied their size and shape.

Daniel opened fire mere seconds before Sam did, and Teal’c joined in less than an instant later, the _whizz-thump_ of his staff weapon echoing around the cavern in counterpoint to the rattle of the automatic gunfire.

The wolves, however, came on.

“What the _hell_ ,” O’Neill cried as the first one soared over the campfire and into the midst of SG-1, snarling and spitting and growling. O’Neill whirled and fired again—only for his bullets to ping off of the tightly woven clumps of fur covering its body in long, sweeping, mottled line, just as if it was wearing Kevlar.

The wolf spun and launched itself at O’Neill, bowling him over with a shout. Sam leapt forward, just as two more wolves barreled into the cavern, snarling and snapping.

Ignoring them, Sam leapt onto the wolf attacking O’Neill. It was a writhing, twisting mass of flesh and fur beneath her, but she got her fingers into the weave of fur protecting it from their bullets and heaved, throwing it off-balance enough for O’Neill to push it off of himself. The wolf collapsed to one side, rolling, pinning Sam beneath it. It twisted its head around and bit at her. Sam snatched her hand away from its snapping teeth just in time, and reached for the knife at her side.

The wolf scrambled to its feet and whirled, launching itself at Sam before she could rise. She grunted as it landed on top of her, freeing her right arm and hand as its claws bit into her chest and stomach. Suddenly fearing disembowelment, Sam stabbed up, up, up with the knife, aiming for the wolf’s eye.

It howled as the blade pierced its red pupil, wrenching its head, and Sam’s knife, away. The knife flew from its eye and clattered against the stone wall, blood showering the floor as it hit and rolled. More blood poured from the thing’s ruined eye as it turned to look at Sam, still pinned beneath it. It snarled at her in pain and fury, and attacked.

Sam pulled her arm up just in time to keep the thing from mauling her face. Instead, her forearm took the brunt of the wounding. Teeth grated against bone, hot blood poured to her wrist and to her elbow, and Sam screamed. The wolf ripped its teeth away, taking with it a chunk of flesh, and Sam fumbled at her side for her sidearm.

She pulled it free of its holster just as the wolf bit down again. She shoved her ravaged arm back in its path, screaming again as it bit down a second time, then shoved the muzzle of her handgun up beneath its chin and fired once, twice, three times.

The bullets slammed through the bottom of the creature’s jaw, through Sam’s torn arm, and up into the roof of the wolf’s mouth. They sank into its brain and lodged in its skull—and Sam _felt_ the life bleed from the wolf. It collapsed on top of her, still and no longer snarling or biting or even breathing, and Sam shoved it away.

She staggered to her feet, her wounded arm hanging limp and useless at her side. She turned—to see three more dead wolves lying throughout the cavern, telltale signs of her teammates’ fighting evident on their fur and in the death shrouding their corpses.

“Carter!”

Sam looked up, dazed and confused by the pain and blood loss, in time to see O’Neill grab her wounded hand and drag her toward the entrance.

“But sir,” she began to protest, “the position is defensible—”

“They’ve fallen back down the gorge,” O’Neill said, “but they’ll be back, and we’re sitting ducks in here. As you saw, we can’t even slow them down with our long-rage weapons, which means bottlenecking them isn’t an option.”

“They’re wolves, sir,” said Sam. “We’ll never outrun them. Or hide from them.”

“But we _can_ find high ground,” O’Neill pointed out. “Or a river to put them off our trail.”

“Right,” said Sam, nodding. O’Neill shoved her vest onto her shoulders, helped her fasten it, then retrieved her knife from where it lay by the wall.

“You’re probably gonna need this,” he said, and Sam nodded as she sheathed it. “Here,” he said then, finally getting a good look at her arm, “Teal’c should bandage that.”

Teal’c, hearing his name, hurried over. He took one look at Sam’s arm and nodded, then went to go find bandages and a cleanser.

“This will sting,” he warned Sam, who nodded with gritted teeth. Teal’c sprayed the disinfectant onto the open wounds, which frothed and bubbled as the spray worked, burning in the massive chunks of flesh gone from Sam’s arm. Then, silently, Teal’c wrapped bandages around the wounds, sealing them against her flesh with tape.

They left their packs and the smoldering remains of their campfire behind, crawling out into the drizzly, pre-dawn light. They turned higher up the gorge, away from the howls of the wolves drifting up from the way they had come the day before.

“We’ll try to circle around and get back down to the Gate once we’re out of the gorge,” O’Neill hissed, taking the lead, with Sam at his back, and Teal’c and Daniel bringing up the rear.

They ran. Without their packs weighing them down, they moved strong and fast up the length of the gorge in a long, easy lope. Sam’s arm hurt, but she did not complain, even as blood began to soak through the bandages and drip down to her fingers once more. She clenched them painfully into a fist, and cradled her arm against her chest, trying to stem the flow of blood—but to no avail. It simply soaked through her jacket and continued to drip to the loam underfoot.

The ground began to slope up, and SG-1 was forced to slow down as the terrain grew rougher and rockier. The walls of the gorge to either side began to slope down, rejoining the ground foot by foot and step by step, until fifty yards up they were on almost-flat ground once more. Only two slight bumps in the ground to either side showed where the gorge walls had been.

“This way,” said O’Neill, cutting to the right. Sam and the rest of SG-1 followed, loping along behind O’Neill as, with blood-curdling howls that grew steadily nearer, the wolves began to give chase once more.

O’Neill increased his pace as above them the rain began to fall more heavily. The rest of them followed suit, until they were full-out running, dodging between the pine trees and leaping over brush and rock and log, breath coming faster and faster in their throats and mouths.

They came upon the river suddenly. It was slow-moving but deep, the bed dropping away suddenly some few feet into the water. SG-1 hesitated at the bank, looking at O’Neill for guidance. He eyed the water warily—then turned, and watched as the flickering shapes of the wolves came into view between the trees.

“Come on,” he said, and plunged into the river.

Sam followed after O’Neill, biting her teeth against the pain of the cold water snapping into the wounds on her arm. She pushed herself forward, swimming strong against the lazy current, while behind her she heard Daniel and Teal’c follow suit.

She climbed up the opposite bank and turned, ready to haul Daniel up after her. He was still half a dozen yards from shore, swimming strong, Teal’c just behind him. O’Neill turned as well, kneeling at the edge of the bank to grab Teal’c.

The water shivered. The river roared. On the other bank, the wolves abruptly skittered back from the bank, howling and snapping and yipping in eerie terror.

“Hurry up!” O’Neill cried.

Sam looked up-river—and her blood froze in her veins. There, through the roaring and the rushing, came a wall of water. It careened down the river, churning it from a lazy sprawl to a howling rapids, spilling over the banks and flooding up to the line of trees to either side.

Sam grabbed the Colonel by the back of his vest and dragged him away from the edge of the river. She heard him yelp as he lost his balance, heard him exclaim, “Carter, what the—”

And then the wall of water struck, tearing around their ankles with the wrath of a hurricane, hitting them with a face-full of stinging spray, sinking tearing fingers into their vests and jackets and shirts.

Sam staggered beneath the onslaught, but did not fall, her fingers still tangled in O’Neill’s vest. She set her feet into the loam and grabbed onto a tree with her injured arm, using it to steady both herself and her colonel against the flood. Her nails tore against the bark, her palm bit into the rough edges—but she held strong, and did not falter.

The water eased around them, the wrath and ruin of the tidal wave ebbing away. Sam released the tree and turned, dropping O’Neill’s vest as he straightened up beside her. She was already searching for Teal’c and Daniel.

“Carter,” O’Neill said, turning as well, only for his voice to die in his throat.

They were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So what did you think? Comment and let me know!


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